


cathedral mountains, silver clouds

by chashmish



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 21:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chashmish/pseuds/chashmish
Summary: Years down the line, Sam and Raiden return to Colorado.





	cathedral mountains, silver clouds

After a year, Sam was beginning to think this place they still called a safehouse seemed more like a _ house_, no prefix necessary. 

A home, even. In recent years they had criss-crossed America, and dispatched themselves quickly around the globe for missions with Solis’ help. But now, at last, they’d been stationary long enough to infuse this place– a one-story house in a wheat-colored lot in western Kansas– with aspects of themselves. Pieces of Raiden’s various bodies lay carelessly in corners, and the coffee Sam liked was always in the kitchen cupboard. Sunny was elated when they finally gave her a more-or-less permanent address to which she could send packages. 

They had been taking fewer missions lately, and Sam, loath as he was to admit it, was getting old. He saw more strands of white in his hair lately, and more lines on his face in the mirror. He was past his prime, clearly– it had been more than ten years since the peak of his career, that thrilling fight with Raiden among the dust and the weathered rocks. It made Sam a little sorrowful to think he would never reach that height again. Then again, the physical activity he engaged in with Raiden now provided far more pleasure than any brawl could. 

Raiden, on the other hand, hardly looked a day older. He was as stubborn as he was when Sam had first met him. And he was restless, as he always had been. He had never had a reason to keep still– or rather, he’d never had the opportunity.

They were not used to staying in one place, but they had started to adjust. War was everywhere, and in combat they were a two-man army, but in the peacetime they'd found in this strange home, they complemented each other, too. Sam preferred to sleep in, Raiden had no need to sleep. Raiden was rash, a creature of instinct, and Sam was deliberate; he knew the right way to use his words and how to bide his time. They looked out for each other, watching each other's backs. That was why Raiden, in recent days, had slowed his pace to match Sam's. And Sam had noticed that, just as he noticed the repressed energy building inside Raiden, and resolved to do something in return. 

"Hell of a bad idea, even for you," Raiden said, after Sam made his proposition. He frowned and leaned against the counter, raising a brow.

Raiden looked so deceptively nonthreatening in his civilian body– the kind of man you could pass by on the street without a second glance. But even if they were strangers, Sam thought that he would have still turned to look. After all, Raiden had always drawn Sam's eye. 

Sam grinned and honeyed his voice, deliberately saccharine. "And why do you say that? Because I would like us to take a romantic getaway?” 

Raiden scoffed and turned away, but there was no scorn in his voice when he replied, just a note of baffled incredulity. "Because you want to go to Colorado."

"I have always been fond of the mountains."

"There are places with mountains where we haven't tried to kill each other." 

Sam laughed. "Don't tell me you still hold a grudge."

"Who, me? You're the one who should have the grudge. I ran you through."

Sam sidled up next to Raiden, pressing their shoulders together. As always he could feel the heat of Raiden's body through the fabric of both of their shirts, indicating the work of a million delicate processes under his artificial skin. "Yes, my love, but not before I did a fine job of kicking your ass. And I survived, so you failed to kill me in the end."

"Despite my best efforts," Raiden said. He sighed loudly and leaned against Sam's shoulder. 

"So," Sam said into his ear. "Will you accompany me to Colorado?"

Raiden had never been hard to read, not at all, and their close proximity for all these years had only sharpened Sam's ability to sense his thoughts. Now, he knew, Raiden was hesitating, but it wouldn't be for long. He would decide quickly, as he always did. Sam knew what his answer would be. 

"All right," Raiden intoned. "Why not?"

And Sam smiled again. 

* * *

As he lacked the ability to tire normally, Raiden did most of the driving. Sam dozed off in the passenger seat of their car, the one that wasn't for missions, a black convertible that they cherished like a child. In the brief lucid moments between intervals of sleep he saw the flat Kansas land begin to transform, swelling slowly into rolling hills. 

He awoke fully when Raiden stopped at a gas station. Sam blinked up at the harsh light from the LEDs. 

"All you do is sleep."

Sam looked over. The door to the driver's side was open, and Raiden was holding the gas pump as the numbers on the screen steadily rose. His eyes were on Sam's.

Sam smiled. "Did you miss me?"

"Company would be nice," Raiden said, petulant. "I still have three hours to drive."

"All right, all right, I'll keep you company."

Raiden finished filling up and got back in the car. Sam turned to him, a hand to his chin. "Now," Sam thought aloud. "How might I best entertain you?"

Raiden sighed and shifted into drive. "Here we go."

"Perhaps I will regale you with a song." He remembered a tune about the Rocky Mountains. _ "I've seen it raining fire in the sky…" _

When he looked again at Raiden, whose eyes were steadfastly fixed on the road, he saw a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and so Sam kept singing. 

* * *

There were towns at the base of Pike's Peak, but all were tourist traps, bleakly kitschy and overpopulated, so they booked a room at an inn an hour out, in a town that was dusty and small, haunted by empty parking lots and empty shopping complexes.

Inside their room, Raiden turned on the television after Sam was finished showering. They lay on the bed together, Sam’s flesh arm around Raiden, gazing at the screen and avoiding the news– these days, hearing it tended to make Raiden's eyes glow red, and this was meant to be a vacation. Instead they flicked through the five or so channels available and ended up listlessly watching a game show. 

Next to Sam, Raiden was still, stiller than any fully-living human could be. Restless though he was, in body and soul, he never had to breathe; he could _ be _without noise, in his hyper-efficient body. It had taken Sam a while to get used to Raiden's particular brand of stillness, to the presence of someone like Raiden so close to him. And Raiden, in turn, had needed time to learn that despite his form and his power, his body was more than a blunt instrument– that it was capable of warmth, of tenderness. 

Sam had done his best to teach him. That had been fun. 

“What are you smirking about?” Raiden said suspiciously.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” 

Sam had let his hair fall loose around his shoulders. Now Raiden turned towards the crook of Sam’s shoulder, burying his face in it and inhaling. 

After a moment, Sam said, gently, “We will leave in the morning, to take the trail up the Front Range.” 

Raiden’s voice sounded muffled, his face still hidden. “Yeah, all right.” 

Raiden had no need to sleep, but sometimes he chose to anyway. Sam turned off the TV and the lights after the game show was over, and joined him in repose.

* * *

Yes, Sam had always been fond of the mountains, but some time had passed since his last youthful weekend trip to Corcovado. He had forgotten that they were pretty to look at, from afar, and less pretty to climb. 

"Getting tired?" Raiden, up ahead on the trail and looking unperturbed, was watching Sam trudge forward with a grin. 

“Not at all,” Sam lied. 

“Halfway marker,” Raiden said, gesturing to a sign next to them. “Still a while to go.” 

They had been hiking for four hours. “I see.” 

“There’s a rest area up ahead. Hey, I could carry you there.”

“Tempting! But I'll have to pass."

They arrived at the rest pavilion in a few minutes. It was conspicuously empty, save for the two of them. Raiden leaned against a pillar and Sam opened his backpack, where he'd been compelled to put a sheathed Murasama after a visibly nervous park ranger-type had informed him he couldn't carry it up the trail. 

He unsheathed his sword, taking comfort in the sound of the steel, before moving out in front of the pavilion. He turned to look at the far-off hills beyond. 

Then he carved an arc in the air with his sword. Daily, he performed the same drills, the ones his father had taught him. Always somewhere quiet, if he could help it– one had to train body and mind together, and such a task required a tranquil environment. Sam's mind was still sharp, even if his body was beginning to lag behind. 

He noticed Raiden watching him after a moment.

"Care to dance?" Sam asked.

“Here? There are people everywhere,” Raiden replied. 

Sam shrugged. 

"Well, not now. I like watching you, anyway."

Sam smiled. "All right," he said, "but soon you will have to indulge me. Murasama yearns for her playmate." He made another swipe in the air. "Jack,” he said.

At the sound of the name he had accepted at last, Raiden's eyes intensified as he waited for Sam to continue. 

“Why have you never given your sword a name?"

"Never felt like I should." And of course that was the answer. Raiden's blade was a tool, a treasured tool, but never something beloved. Never an extension of himself. 

“I wonder,” Sam mused out loud. "Is it because your naming skills are sub-par?"

"What?"

"Blade Wolf could attest to that, I think." 

"He _ likes _ that name," Raiden complained, the pitch of his voice rising in a whine. “It's a good name. You call him that, too!"

"If you were to christen your weapon, I can only imagine you would choose a name like… _ Swordy." _

“Now you’re picking a fight,” Raiden said, moving to come closer, and after merely one or two strides he was by Sam’s side. 

Sam always forgot how fast he could move. He laughed and shifted into a defensive stance, but Raiden only folded his arms, looking disapproving. Sam raised his arms in a questioning gesture. 

For a moment Raiden only looked at him, considering, and then he turned away. “Asshole.” He went over to the bench at the pavilion where they’d left their things. “C’mon. We can spar later.” 

So they ceased their rest and moved forward. 

“I named Sunny, too, you know,” Raiden said, a little farther up the trail. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When I rescued her… felt weird to not call her anything.”

“So, why Sunny?” 

Raiden frowned. "I can't remember."

Sam chuckled. 

Raiden glared at him, and then his expression softened and evened into thoughtfulness. “I remember she was a weird baby. Barely cried at all. She took a while to start talking, you know."

"You could have fooled me, seeing the way she is now."

"Ha. Yeah." 

The terrain on the trail became rougher over time, flora and greenery replaced by dusty red rocks. Raiden stepped lightly over stones, agile as always, patiently turning and waiting for Sam when he had to. The dull ache in Sam's muscles started to feel good, productive, the rush of endorphins egging him onwards. The force of the sun and the wind, the sight of the dizzying drops on either side of him, peeking out through the dense forest– it all made him feel alive. 

When they passed the marker informing them there was one mile to go, Sam was in a good mood, feeling as if he could continue for much longer. They went on in tranquil silence. Sam noticed Raiden's eyes widen as they climbed higher and higher, his head turning constantly to take in the view.

Finally, minutes later, they emerged, and could go no higher. 

"The summit," Sam said, grinning. He threw back his head and laughed, before cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting. "Whoo-hoo!"

Raiden stretched. "Finally."

The view before them seemed endless. Clouds blanketed the blue sky far into the distance, and a carpet of trees covered the myriad hills for miles and miles. At fourteen thousand feet in the air, the rest of the world was misty and half-formed. 

It was chilly. Sam pulled his windbreaker tighter around him and closed his eyes. 

Hearing Raiden speak made him open them. 

“Seems like the best parts of America,” Raiden said, “are the places where nobody lives.” 

His brow was furrowed, his lips pursed, but his eyes were trained on the view. His eyes always gave everything away. Right now they betrayed a sense of wonderment. 

Sam had no great love for this country. Raiden would say he didn’t, either. There was trouble all over the world; they could go anywhere to seek it out, but they stayed here.

Raiden may not have loved America, but he was attached to it. Not to the politics or the culture, but maybe to the people, or to the land, or to the possibilities. Perhaps he didn’t know himself– perhaps it was something ineffable. 

Regardless, they stayed here because of Raiden, an unspoken truth. Sam had no problem with it. He was content to remain by the side of the person who had given him purpose. 

Sam remembered why he’d wanted to come here– why he liked the mountains in the first place. From this high up, seeing this far into the distance, it became easier to see things in perspective, for the puzzle pieces to fall into place. 

He waited for something about his life to occur to him. Nothing did.

Then he looked sideways at Raiden, and their eyes met, and things made sense. 

"You know,” Sam said, keeping his eyes on Raiden, “they say you haven't truly been born until you come home to the Rockies."

Raiden rolled his eyes. "You're getting all your assumptions from that song."

“It is an American classic.” Sam stretched his hands behind his head, gazing once again at the view. 

When he looked again to his left he saw that Raiden had soundlessly materialized right next to him again. 

Raiden reached out and took Sam’s face in his hands– or rather, he grabbed it.

“Ouch,” Sam complained.

“You’re cold,” said Raiden. 

He shifted closer to Sam, and they looped their arms around each other. Raiden’s solid form, always a good source of heat, soon sent warmth circulating through Sam again. 

"So," Raiden said. "Feeling enlightened?"

“Hm?”

"I know you.” Raiden shook his head. “You probably wanted to have some grand revelation at the top of a mountain."

Sam gazed at Raiden for a moment, scrutinizing, until he huffed and looked away. Sam smiled. "And so I did," he said. 

"Oh, really? And what was it?"

"Heh," Sam said. "I have realized that I have nothing to realize.”

“...Profound.”

Sam smiled. “I’m too old for revelations now. So I am satisfied. Besides, I have you to lead me. You would not let me lose my way, like a lodestar."

Sam appreciated that Raiden was still able to blush. It was a good look on him. "You're so…"

"I'm so?" Sam lowered his voice.

"Uh," Raiden mumbled. "Poetic. How can I compete with that?"

"Ah, but there is no need, since you would not win,” Sam said cheerfully. “I love you as you are, brash and simple-minded and all."

"Seriously, you're picking a fight, aren't you?" 

They found an outcropping of rock and sat down. Sam drank from a water bottle. Raiden chewed thoughtfully at a granola bar. 

“Hey,” Raiden said. “What if I lead you to the wrong place?”

“A foolish question,” Sam said easily. “You haven’t yet. And if you do, then I will follow you anyway.” 

“So if we go down, we go down together."

“That is how things have been so far.” 

"Heh.” Raiden smiled at Sam, and then turned away, his eyes falling on the great beyond. “All right.” 


End file.
